Chapter Fifteen
“Hey, beautiful. Wake up.”
I don’t wanna. It’s so comfy here, on the sofa, propped up on what feels like a million pillows.
Crap. Blake’s sofa. Blake’s pillows. Blake’s penthouse.
My eyes fly open a split second before I bolt upright, which is a real shame—that whole bolting thing—since Blake is leaning over me. Stars explode behind my eyes when our heads collide.
“Oof!” he groans, reeling backward with one hand over his forehead. “Wow. Remind me never to wake you up again.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I babble, holding my head the way he’s holding his. “I didn’t know you were so close. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He’s grimacing though as he rubs where I smacked into him. “I should be the one apologizing to you after falling asleep. It’s unforgivable.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” I grin. “You were exhausted.”
He looks down at the sofa, where the book I was flipping through before falling asleep is still open. “At least you found a way to keep yourself occupied.”
“Your library is amazing.”
And it is—floor-to-ceiling books along three walls. A bookworm’s wet dream, in other words. Now, there’s something I could write an erotic scene about, no problem.
“Thanks. I’m a big reader.”
“I guess you have to be.”
It’s still dark outside, I note. “What time is it?”
“Just after ten. Neither of us slept very long. I really am sorry.” He looks around. “I guess dinner’s a no-go?”
“I put it in the fridge. It’s only been a couple of hours. Do you think it’s still good?”
“Only one way to find out. No, no, let me,” he urges when I start to get up. “I’ll bring it out to you. Wine?”
“Sure, thanks.”
I manage to smooth out my hair and check my face for any dried spit or eye crusties or anything like that while he walks to the kitchen, barefoot. He’s only wearing a pair of soft cotton pants. No shirt. The gods are smiling upon me.
Which is why looking like death warmed over after my little nap is a harrowing thought.
Soft jazz music starts coming from someplace, making me jump for the second time tonight.
Where the heck are the speakers? I can’t see them anywhere, but there’s definitely a soft melody flowing through the living room when Blake brings me a glass of white wine, leaving the bottle and a second glass on the coffee table before scooting back to the kitchen.
“I figured we could still have some good music, like I was hoping to enjoy with you last night.”
“This is nice.” I smile over my shoulder, and it is. Better than nice. The sort of thing a girl could get used to without much effort.
“Just nice, huh?” He’s smiling as he brings the food in, cartons stacked one on top of the other and tucked under his chin to keep everything from falling to the floor. “I’ll have to try a lot harder then.”
“Not that I would stop you”—I smirk—“but you know what I mean. If I called it extraordinary, I’d sound like an idiot. Even though it is.”
“And you wouldn’t. You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve gotta stop that.” He plops right down on the floor across from me and starts opening the containers. “I don’t think you could sound like an idiot if you tried.”
“Now, I know you’re only trying to butter me up.” I laugh. “You don’t have to make up for falling asleep. I totally understand.”
“You’re tough.” He hands me a pair of chopsticks—nice, shiny, not the sort a restaurant sends with their food. His own, I’d guess.
“Is this actual rose-gold gilding?” I ask, examining them. The wood looks like ebony too.
“Mmhmm. Not that it makes the food taste better or anything like that, but what the hell?” He sweeps his bare, muscular arms over the table, where an array of sushi, sashimi, and various rolls await. “Dig in. Let me recommend this roll right here.” He points to a large, colorful one.
“What is it?”
“Spicy yellowtail, tempura shrimp, and banana.”
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious!” He takes a piece for himself, popping the whole thing in his mouth at once.
Judging by the way his eyes close, I’m guessing it’s quite good. I also wonder what a girl has to do to put that look on his face because I sure would like to.
“Okay. I’ll try anything once.” I take a piece and manage to somehow fit it into my mouth. “Oh. Oh my.”
“Right?”
“It shouldn’t work, but it does!”
“I know. Crazy. Just goes to show you, don’t judge a roll by its ingredients. Sometimes, everything works together and gives you something way better than the individual parts.”
“You’re a pretty smart guy.” I take a piece of salmon sushi. The fish practically melts in my mouth, and the rice is perfectly seasoned. “This is incredible.”
“I wish we could’ve eaten it when it was a little fresher. For future reference, you’re more than welcome to wake me up when I fall asleep.”
Future reference, huh? That bodes well. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Because a man would have to be out of his mind to make a mistake like that twice in a lifetime.”
Our eyes meet, another piece of salmon on its way to my mouth. I pause with the chopsticks midair. “It wasn’t that big a deal, you know,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”
“A beautiful woman in my home, waiting for me downstairs? And I fall asleep? I could’ve kicked myself when I woke up. For a minute there, I thought you must’ve gotten tired of waiting and gone home.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“You had every right to, but I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I didn’t try to steal anything either, if you’re worried about that.”
He coughs hard, eyes bulging.
Great. I just killed one of the wealthiest men in the world before I even had the chance to get him into bed. “Sorry!”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay,” he manages to say once the sushi is out of his throat. “It’s just that I never thought you did. The things you come up with.”
“Are you kidding? If I were you, I’d always worry about somebody trying to steal from me.”
“That’s why I employ people I trust, who make sure such things won’t happen.” He takes another piece of that stellar banana roll and pretends like he’s shooing my chopsticks away when I go for one too. “I said try it, not take all of it.”
“Hilarious.” I stick my tongue out at him before popping the strange, heavenly concoction in. “Gosh, that’s good. This is all so nice.”
“I’m glad I could manage to at least partly salvage what I’ve messed up.
” He puts down the chopsticks and looks at me from across the table, serious now.
“I can’t stop messing things up. It seems like, no matter how I try, something always goes wrong.
I live a complicated life. There aren’t many women willing to put up with the life I lead, the schedule I keep. ”
“I understand.”
At least he sees it anyway.
“Yes, but understanding only runs so deep and only for so long. I find a woman I really like, somebody who makes me laugh and helps me stay grounded. She’s beautiful and talented and smart. And all I can do is screw things up.”
“I hope you’re not talking about me because I don’t think you’ve screwed up. Not even a little.”
He’s smiling softly as he rises from the floor in one fluid motion. His body is a work of art all right, and he moves with fluid grace. “Come here,” he murmurs, holding a hand out.
I stand in front of him and put a hand on his bare shoulder as he slides an arm around my waist. He takes my right hand in his, firmly clasping it and holding it between us. “I just have to dance with you. I’ve been wanting to for days, ever since I had the idea of taking you out this weekend.”
Can he feel how fast my heart is racing as we sway back and forth, slowly and gently in time with the rich, sensuous piano coming from those invisible speakers?
His skin is smooth and warm, and I want nothing more than to sink my fingers into the muscles of his shoulder.
His mouth is close to my ear, his breath tickling my skin and bringing goose bumps up all over my neck.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “Not just physically—I mean, you’re ravishing, but you’re much more than that. I wonder if you’ll ever figure out how special you are.” His hand presses against my back, fingers working against the thin fabric of my blouse and just about undoing me.
My skin flushes hotter than before, about bursting into flames when his lips find my earlobe. My nerves are sizzling, my head spinning. Is this really happening? I wish there were something I could say, something clever or even seductive. I’m supposed to know so many words, right?
There’s nothing I can say, nothing that would make any sense with everything rattling around in my overheated brain. I can only turn my head slightly, so my lips graze his chiseled jaw. He pulls his head back a fraction, putting us face-to-face.
God, I can’t breathe. There might as well be nobody in the world but the two of us as we sway together, my body pressed against his. I’m falling, falling, but he catches me when our mouths meet.
There’s no hesitation now, the arm around my waist tightening before lifting me off the floor. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, letting him carry me to the sofa where he sits with me in his lap.
“What about dinner?” I whisper as his mouth moves over my jaw, down my throat.
“We can order more,” he growls before capturing my mouth again and doing things with his tongue that ought to be illegal, but I’m glad they’re not because, oh jeez, I’ve never been kissed like this in my life.
Now, I can dig my fingers into his muscles, and thank heavens for that. I hold on to his shoulders for dear life, gripping him hard as my hips start moving on their own. He holds my hips, pulling down, driving his covered length against me while we make out like horny teenagers.
“Kitty …” he groans before burying his face in my neck, breathing hard, kissing and tasting while I run my fingers through his hair.
This is wild, perfect, on the verge of being something truly great.
Until …
I open my mouth.
And burp.
Loudly.
Like, there’s some serious bass in it, and it echoes off all the hard surfaces in the penthouse until it sounds like a drunken longshoreman just passed through.
I freeze.
So does he.
I wanna die.
I don’t realize until he starts shaking that he thinks this is funny. He’s shaking with laughter which, bless his heart, he’s trying so hard to hide but can’t manage it.
“I’m sorry! Don’t take it the wrong way!” he urges, tears rolling down his cheeks as my face burns with shame.
I tumble off his lap, horrified. “I’m so sorry. That was disgusting.”
“It was normal.” He chuckles, wiping his eyes.
“Oh, Kitty, you’re the whole package. It’s my fault for getting things started while we were halfway through our meal.
Don’t be embarrassed,” he insists when I don’t crack a smile.
“I’ve heard a lot worse. I’ve seen a lot worse too.
You’re a human being who just ate a bunch of sushi and drank some wine. It’s not the end of the world.”
No, but it’s hardly the sexiest thing I’ve ever done either.
There goes the whole sex-goddess thing.